


Wish Fulfillment

by Yavannie



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard
Genre: AoA5 spoilers, F/M, Loki feeling sorry for himself, Mild Language, One Shot, Oral Sex, Probably not as porny as you'd think, Prompt Fill, Series Spoilers, Sexual Content, Spoilers, Verity has a surprising amount of fucks to give
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yavannie/pseuds/Yavannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since they hung up the phone, Loki has gone off the grid. Verity is determined to find out why, or at the very least get that dinner he owes her.</p><p>After reading #5, my precious little girl-child beta wanted Loki and Verity to have dinner, for Loki to lie about the heist, and for Verity to call him out on it, after which - and I quote - "she comforts him and they paint each others' nails, eat ice cream, and have comfort sex". I managed to squeeze in one or possibly two out of four ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish Fulfillment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DaemonMeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaemonMeg/gifts).



> Since this is a surprise gift for my beta it, eerh, hasn't been betaed. Feel free to point out any mistakes!

“He moved.”

Verity spun around in the hallway to face a wizened old man in a well-tailored suit, almost a full head shorter than herself. “Excuse me?” she said.

“The young man who lived here. He moved.”

“Oh.” She turned again to the door. Not two weeks earlier, he’d made her dinner here. And he still owed her a meal. At _least_ one, and probably more like five, by her reckoning. “Did he say where to?”

“No. Didn’t leave a number either.” The man shuffled his feet and jingled a set of keys impatiently.

She stepped aside. “But at least he was… You know, alive and well?”

The old man shrugged noncommittally and opened the door. “You a friend of his?” he asked, as if he’d just remembered something.

“Yes,” said Verity, and hoped it was true.

He grabbed something from a table just inside the door. “Perhaps you can hold on to this then,” he said, handing her a small, exquisitely carved box.

“Sure,” said Verity, half a second before the old man shut the door in her face. “Jerk.”

 

* * *

Yesterday

20:12 Hey, asshole. This is your last chance. I have the pretty little box you left at your old place. 

 

20:14 How did you get this number?

 

20:14 I had a favor to cash in from Sigurd.

 

20:15 I don’t want to know.

 

20:15 So what’s it going to be?

 

20:45 Hello?

 

Today

00:31 Asshole.

 

19:43 123 W 93rd. Bring the box.

 

* * *

 

She had to take several deep breaths before she was sufficiently calmed down to press the buzzer. The fact that she cared made her even angrier, so effectively, she was now angry because she was angry. For the umpteenth time, she considered just throwing the damn thing in a dumpster and going back home, but curiosity and other things besides still had this cat firmly by the tail, so the buzzer buzzed and the lock clicked.

From what she could see from the hall, this apartment wasn’t much different from the old one; still sparsely decorated with IKEA furniture and smelling of all-purpose cleaner. Loki, however, had definitely seen better days. She hoped the dark circles under his eyes was yesterday’s eyeliner, but she wouldn’t be willing to bet on it.

“When did you last wash your hair?” asked Verity and kicked off her sneakers.

Loki gave her a stiff smile. “Ask anyone else and they’ll assure you it looks fabulous.”

“I don’t suppose the illusion would mask the smell though,” she said, sniffing at the air and wrinkling her nose.

He ignored that. “The box?” he said.

“You don’t beat about the bush, do you?” 

Loki didn’t reply, so Verity dug the little wooden item from her pocket angrily and held it out.

“Can you put it on the top shelf in here?” he asked and walked towards the living room.

She let out a short laugh and folded her arms across her chest. “No. No I don’t think I can.”

“It’s the last favor I’ll ask of you,” he said, not even turning around. “Please, just put it on the shelf, and you can go.”

“Do it yourself,” she said, set the box down on the floor and started pulling her shoes on again.

“I can’t.”

She paused, still crouched on the floor. “What?”

He sighed, taking a couple of steps back towards her. “I can’t. I can’t put it there myself.”

It was true. He couldn’t. After a few seconds of turning the riddle over in her head, something clicked. “You can’t touch it, can you? That’s why you left it behind.”

“Something like that.”

She grabbed the box again, walked hurriedly past him into the flat, found the bookshelf and placed the strange little object on the top shelf. “There,” she said. “Now, would you please tell me what the fuck is going on?”

He leered at her. “Why so surprised, Verity? I told you, I’m the god of lies and mischief. Did you really think it was beneath me to use you for my own purposes and then move on?”

Did _he_ really think that syntax would fool her? “Was that what you did? Was our whole so-called…” she hesitated for half a heartbeat “… _friendship_ just a lie?”

He stared at her, jaw clenching and unclenching quietly. “No,” he said finally.

“Then why would you say that?”

“Because I want you to leave.”

Sometimes, the truth still hurt, and for a few seconds she was left in confused silence. “Why?” she asked.

Loki gave her a pained look, and for a brief moment he almost seemed his old self. “Do we really have to do this?”

“Yes, I think we do. What happened, Loki? What about the mission?”

“You’ve talked to Sigurd, haven’t you? The mission was an unparalleled success.” 

“Liar.”

He frowned, then shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

“My favorite kind.”

 

* * *

 

A phone call for takeout, a shower for Loki, a bottle of wine and a tub of rum and raisin ice cream later, Verity was up to speed. Not entirely, of course - Loki was still Loki, and that meant more secrets than the X-file at the FBI - but enough to understand the chipped nail varnish and the overall sad hobo look. 

“Wow,” she said.

“I wish I could say ‘that’s what I said’,” said Loki wistfully. “I trust you see now why I don’t want you around anymore.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Your insistence is admirable, Verity, but you need a friend like me like a hole in the head. Trust me.”

They were sitting on the floor with their backs against the sofa, and Verity let her head flop back onto the cushions with a sigh. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a fatalist.”

“I’m not. I’m simply–“

“A realist?” she interrupted, snapping her head back up to look at him. “Fuck that. You’re making excuses.” She gritted her teeth, shaking her head slowly. “I wish I could have been there.”

“What difference would it have made?”

“You’ve always had a way with words, Loki, so I assume _he_ does as well, and aside from being a lie detector on legs, I’m also pretty damn good at telling when someone’s trying to bullshit their way around the truth.”

“I _am_ him.”

He believed it, so the words rang true. “Not yet,” she said. “And if you’re in any way interested in saving the world from yourself, you should probably stop moping around and get to work.”

“I _have_ been working,” he said. “The artifact you brought is a small but significant part of the puzzle. I’m very grateful for your help.”

“How come you moved?” she asked.

He shifted uncomfortably and looked away. “Didn’t care much for the bathroom.”

“And the box?”

“It’s highly useful but not indispensable.”

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous though, leaving magical stuff lying around?”

“It’s fairly harmless, and at the time, I had no-one…” His voice trailed off.

“Keep telling yourself that and it’ll be true,” she said.

“I’m certainly trying my hardest,” he said and smiled.

She pulled her phone out to look at the time. It was approaching two in the morning. “Shit, it’s late,” she muttered, feeling less than enthusiastic about a walk through Central Park. The card in her back pocket, however, felt even less enthusiastic about spending money on a cab.

“I’ll pay for a taxi,” Loki offered, as if he’d read her mind. “It’s the least I can do.”

Verity nodded, but couldn’t ignore the feeling of disappointment sinking in her chest. It was probably true that he was bad for her life expectancy, but then again, her life had been very dull until she met him. She glanced his way. He had his phone against his ear but seemed to feel her looking, because he turned to her.

“Or, you could, you know…” he said, motioning vaguely towards the bedroom with his free hand. “I won’t try anything.”

_The jury is still out on that one, Loki_ , she thought. “Yeah, sure,” she said aloud, jumping at the chance while she was still stupid enough to take it. Their gazes were still locked, and when Loki’s mouth pulled into a lopsided smile, she couldn’t help but smile back. Then the sound of the call connecting broke the spell.

“Hello,” he said, voice shifting smoothly into a businesslike tone. “Yes, my apologies. It seems we shan’t be needing your services after all.”

 

* * *

 

It was utterly dark in the bedroom and the space between their bodies made it impossible to relax. It was just about wide enough to satisfy all the unwritten rules of propriety, and much too narrow for her to move around comfortably without accidentally touching him. From listening to his shallow breathing, she was pretty sure she wasn’t the only one still awake. After silently reciting the first three hundred or so decimals of pi, she gave in.

“I can’t sleep like this,” she said and sat up.

“Why not?” he asked.

“I like my space,” she said, and grimaced in the dark at her own white lie. He sat up as well, but stayed quiet, seemingly waiting for her to go on, so she did. “I just can't get comfortable.”

“Not the cuddling type?”

“We’re not cuddling.”

“Then maybe that’s the problem.”

They sat quietly for a while, and then she felt his hand on her knee. The light touch sent her heart racing, but he lay down again and she let out a slow sigh.

“Come on,” he said, and even though she couldn’t see it, she knew he was holding his arm out.

She sank back down and wriggled closer until her back was flush against him. He was warmer than her, and the arm he slung across her waist felt unnaturally heavy. 

“Better?” he asked.

“Much better,” she said, and she meant it, too.

The tension seemed to drain from her and she felt herself relax against his chest, but actual sleep still seemed an unlikely prospect. There was a light but unrelenting tingling between her thighs and it didn't seem about to let up. There were two ways to deal with that, and while only one of them guaranteed success, she really didn't feel like getting out of bed for a trip to the bathroom right now. Experimentally, she pushed her ass against his crotch, and a swift shifting aside from Loki told her everything she needed to know. She turned on her other side, carefully sought out his face with her hand, then ran her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he said.

“Oh, get over yourself,” she said, moved closer and tilted her head up to kiss him.

There was a moment of hesitation on his part when she pressed her lips against his before he softened and kissed her back. It didn’t take long before the kisses became open-mouthed and hot with promise, Loki living up to his name as a Norse god right up until the moment where he started gently stroking her arm in soft, circular motions.

“That’s my elbow,” she mumbled.

“Damn,” he said, moving on to grope inexpertly at her breasts.

“Turn the lights on?” she suggested.

“I haven't put the lamp up yet. Wait,” he said, slipping free of their embrace. 

She felt the mattress spring back when he stood, and a moment later came the sound of the window shade rushing up, allowing the hard, grey light of the city streets to flood the ceiling. Loki pulled the window open as well, letting in the night sounds and a cool gust of air that made her nipples contract and stiffen against her top. He was still wearing his boxers, but when he came towards the bed again, she could see the unmistakable bulge. She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and pulled him closer by his waistband, letting his hard-on brush against her breasts, and a groan escaped Loki. Giving in to curiosity, she rubbed her palm along his cock, wondering if god-like stamina was a term that applied in a situations like these. He fisted her hair and ground into her touch.

“It’s been a while,” he said in a strained voice.

“You’re making excuses again,” said Verity. “Although I gotta say, my expectations aren’t exactly modest.”

“It’s not an easy life, being a deity,” said Loki, reached down and lifted her up with ease, then laid her back down on the bed. He bent over her to kiss her again, pushing her legs apart with a knee.

“I’m already disappointed, Loki,” she said with a playful pout and reached out for his boxers again. “I was hoping for something a little less vanilla than you on top.”

“Oh, you don’t want me on top,” he said, and swatted her hand away before trailing his fingers along the lace trimmings of her panties. “I’m extremely heavy.”

He pushed her top up and took his time with her breasts. He was a quick learner, she noted, adapting to the slightest shift or word from her. By the time he edged backwards, dragging his teeth down her stomach and yanking down her panties, she was already more than warmed up. Avoiding her clit, he let two fingers ghost over her mound, making her raise her hips in a desperate quest for more friction. He tutted at her, then moved down and raised her leg to hook it over his shoulder.

“Yeah, no,” she said as she realized what he was doing. “That actually very rarely works for me.”

“Challenge accepted,” he said, and when he dropped his head to drag a lick along her pussy, his tongue was icy cold.

“Fuck me,” she gasped, jerking involuntarily. “Fucking fuck.” She could _feel_ the son of a bitch smiling.

Not five minutes later, she was lying boneless on the bed, swollen and slightly numb with popsicle-induced post-orgasmic bliss, already mentally shopping online for one of those dildos you put in the freezer. Loki was on his side, tracing patterns on her belly.

“I trust that was satisfactory?”

“Yes,” she said. She didn’t even have enough energy to say something clever.

“I’m sorely tempted to keep you around,” he said, and lay back on the bed. “That was fun.”

“For me, at least.”

“But,” he said, ignoring her remark, “I wonder if this isn’t just a step from bad to worse.”

“Oh, yeah? I beg to differ. If you’re thinking of giving me another speech about how bad you are for me, save it, all right? I don’t care. I’ve been bored all my life, Loki, and this is the most fun I’ve ever had. _Ever_.”

He pushed himself up on his elbow again, and looked at her intently. “And once I go rotten?”

“If,” she reminded him. “You’re already an asshole though, so I suspect I’ll live with it.”

“You have no idea how much of an asshole I can be. How much of an asshole I _have_ been.”

“I’m not a complete idiot,” she said. “And even I have standards.”

“Good. Don’t let me drag you down with me.”

He sounded so painfully serious that she felt like punching him in the face. Instead, she kissed him. One kiss turned into two, and then four, and then many, until she pushed him on his back again, yanked his boxers off and straddled him. His cock was hard - again or still - so she grabbed it and lifted her hips, then froze as she saw the amused look on his face.

“What?” she said. 

“And this _isn’t_ vanilla?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

She let go of his cock, letting it slap back on his belly, sat down and crossed her arms. “Fine. Show me how you do it on Asgard.”

“Careful what you wish for,” said Loki, then sat up, grabbed her thighs, and showed her.


End file.
